A Harry Potter Christmas Carol
by Gifted
Summary: Now AU PreDH Voldemort is planning to spend his Christmas alone like always. But when a Death Eater that he thought was dead has come for a visit tells him he will be visited by three other spirits, will his life change? Well he won't allow it.
1. Prologue

**Title: ** A Harry Potter Christmas Carol  
**Author:** Gifted  
**Rating: **K  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. I only own this story.

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Prologue

Death Eater Meeting

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Lord Voldemort used his red eyes to glance over his loyal Death Eaters. He had been half pleased. The raid on the Ministry of Magic was a failure (He had punished them for that), but the raid on Muggle London had done well. 

"Now, I was hoping that tonight-" he had started with an evil plan in mind, but a Death Eater stepped up breaking the ring.

"I am sorry my lord, but it is Christmas Eve", he fumbled and Voldemort recognized him as Peter Pettigrew.

Christmas Eve. What rubbish! Of course he knew it was Christmas Eve! Oh how could he not.

"Your point, Wormtail?" he asked dangerously.

"Well, it's just that a lot of us have families and friends. We have plans tonight", he finally muttered out while other Death Eaters shifted as if agreeing with him.

"Fine!" Voldemort said bitterly, "We do it tomorrow"

"But, my lord! Most of us have plans for Christmas Day too", he said while others nodded.

Great. Christmas was the finest time to attack, but obviously none of them were going to participate.

"Fine! This means that our attack will be after Christmas Day. Yes after!" he said, his voice rising dangerously higher at the shocked looks upon the faces, "It has to be successful in everyway or else!"

Pettigrew stepped back into the circle and nobody answered.

"Meeting Adjourned!" said Voldemort.

Immediately, every Death Eater strolled out of the room leaving one behind and he recognized her as Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Yes?" he said his patience thinning.

"Well my lord", she started as if she was trying to think out her words carefully, "You see Anvholo and I are having a Christmas party tonight and we wanted to invite you"

Voldemort gave her the most piercing death glare he could manage (which indeed is very effective). Did she just ask him to a Christmas Party? What was the world coming to?

"Me? At a Christmas Party! Christmas is rubbish! You wouldn't catch me at a party in its honor!" said Voldemort angrily.

"Of course not my lord", she said being truthfully sorry, "We just wanted to see if you would like to come. Well, see you at the next raid"

With that, she hurried out of the room knowing Voldemort liked to be alone whenever he could.

Nagini, his pet snake, slithered over to him hissing.

"_Can you believe it Nagini? Me at a Christmas Party? Rubbish!_" he spoke in Parseltongue to his snake who only hissed an agreement before slithering off again.

Lord Voldemort sighed. This really was a waste of a night. It would be a perfect chance to get Potter and those idiots. Next year he wasn't going to let his Death Eaters off the hook.

_Rattle_. _Rattle_.

Voldemort tensed at that noise. The word matching to the noise clicked in his mind.

_Chains? Who's carrying chains?_, he thought to himself.

The noise stopped, but he kept his hearing sharp. After a while, he told himself he was imagining things. He got up from the throne-like chair and turned to glance out the window.

He stopped dead in his footsteps and stared at the white transparent figure before him. Was it who he thought he was?

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**Author's Note: **Hello there! This isn't my first published story, but my fourth. Though it is my first Harry Potter fanfiction (all my others are Disney fanfictions). I would just like to say thank you all in advance for reading and reviews are desired, but not necessary (as this story is all written and I will still post it even if it got flames). I know the Prologue was terribly short, but this story is actually _very_ short in length and I didn't want to give away too much in just the Prologue. Certainly hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays (which ever you prefer.) 


	2. Amycus Gibbon Comes to Visit

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_.

**Claimer:** I do own this fanfiction however

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Chapter 1

Amycus Gibbon Comes To Visit

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"Amycus Gibbon!" he said aghast at the ghost before him. Amycus had changed. He looked as if the world was a vale of tears. He had large chains warped all around him. When he spoke, he had a hoarse scratchy voice as if he had been crying for mercy for all his life. Deep shadows appeared under his eyes. Had Voldemort not known that wizards sometimes leave an imprint of their soul on Earth, he would have been scared to death. 

"Merry Christmas my lord", he said sorrowfully.

"Rubbish!" interjected Voldemort immediately despite the situation.

"I knew that you think that and that's why I am here", Gibbon said.

"What's your point?"

"Do you see the chains I have my lord?" he asked raising his arms that are laden with heavy chains, as Voldemort nodded, he went on, "For all the sins I have done, I have forged each link. For each torture, each raid, each robbery, and each murder. For those with many sins must pay eternal punishment and must hold the burden of the chains that they have created within their life. See how long and heavy my chains are? Just imagine yours.

"I have seen your chains, my lord. They keep it in a special room for you. It fills up to the ceiling." Voldemort rolled his red eyes.

"What's your point?" he repeated.

"They have decided to give you a second chance and they have sent me to warn you. Three Spirits will come to teach you the way you should live life. Once you do good deeds to right your wrongs, each deed will erase a link. If not, you will have to carry your chains everywhere and be constantly reminded of the sins you have done for eternity" he explained gravely. Voldemort couldn't believe his eyes or ears.

"I am hallucinating", he said turning his back on Gibbon who disappeared.

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**Author's Note: **Wow, I've never noticed how short each chapter is. It was hardly worth a week's wait for. Perhaps after I post it all, I'll go through making it longer, combing chapters, and such. Anyway, I was looking for a dead Death Eater and I know there's probably lots of choices like Sirius's brother and so on, but while reading HBP, it staid one of the Gibbon siblings were killed, but it didn't say which one so I just chose Amycus. Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit longer. Thank you all for the reviews! This story is the first of my stories just to get 3 reviews in one day. I wanted to reply to them, but my keyboard was acting funny (it's fixed) and you can expect some replies soon. 


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Past

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. 

**Claimer:** I do own this fanfiction however

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Chapter 2

Ghost of Christmas Past

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Voldemort quickly went from that room into the parlor of the old Riddle Manor of Little Hangleton. He glanced at the grandfather clock which ran 1:00 at that moment. He turned to see another transparent familiar figure, but he hadn't seen this one for many years. 

A rather young child floated in front of him. His grey eyes that he remembered had once shined and sparkled like that fool Dumbledore did, but now they were dull and old. He had blonde short hair with bangs that went down to his eyes. He wore simple pants and a shirt with a thin jacket over it. Within his eyes, you could see his soul. Unlike the appearance of the child, they showed an old gray man much beyond his years. Even though Voldemort knew he had seen this boy before, he couldn't recall who he was.

"Who are you?" he said hastily.

"Hello Tom. I am Dennis Bishop. Do you recall me from the orphanage?" he said dully.

"My name is Lord Voldemort now. Yes I do, but what are you doing here? Why are you here?" Voldemort asked wanting to know.

"It doesn't matter. You'll always be Tom to me no matter how you deform your body. I thought Gibbon had explained everything, but then again while I was alive, I myself wouldn't have believed that a ghost came to visit me", he said, "I am one of the three spirits that Gibbon told you would come. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. I am here to show you your past."

"Why are you a child in your spirit form? Didn't you grow up before you died?"

"Yes I did and to a ripe old age. In fact I died during that raid on London you did. I am a child in spirit because I hoped that I could have my childhood again. It was foolish, but there's nothing I could change now.

"You see Tom, my sudden end of childhood was because of you. Remember I was one of those kids you brought to that cave? You made me suffer nothing that a child should at my age then. I was scarred for life; Amy too. Since then I have been old and wise beyond my age and I do not like it.

"It's just another one of your sins", he replied, "But enough about me."

"Don't tell me that we're going to review Christmases at the orphanage! It was bad enough just going through them once", protested Voldemort.

"Of course not and I agree with you", he replied with a faint of a smile, but it vanished instantly, "We are going to view your first Christmas at your school. Grab my hand"

He lifted his hand towards Voldemort who, against his better judgment, took it.

Instantly, he was in the Potions classroom he knew so well. He saw himself in front of him making a batch of Polyjuice Potion in his second year. The younger Voldemort-or should I say Tom Riddle? - was working on a complex potion. The Younger Tom was much more good looking and more human-like than Voldemort was now.

A large person who resembled a walrus walked in with good cheer, "There you are Tom! It's Christmas and the feast is starting soon! You shouldn't be wasting your time here when you could be celebrating!"

"That is your favorite teacher, isn't it?" asked Dennis to the older Voldemort.

"I needed to work on the Polyjuice Potion, Professor Slughorn", said the younger Tom.

"Yes, Horace Slughorn was my favorite teacher. I had him wrapped around my finger", Voldemort said to Dennis as Professor Slughorn rushed Tom to the Great Hall while Voldemort and Walter followed.

Voldemort never noticed how much he missed Hogwarts as he watched himself sit down by himself and start eating at the Christmas Dinner in the Great Hall.

Before he knew it, he found himself somewhere else with Dennis and realized that they were moving onto a different memory rather like a Pensieve.

He recognized it as Professor Slughorn's office filled with Christmas decorations and hundreds of students of his 'Slug Club' at his annual Christmas Party.

Voldemort saw himself at 16 holding hands with a beautiful girl with raven black hair and green eyes.

_Oh no! Not her!_, he thought while watching the couple walk to the dance floor.

"Do you remember her?" asked Dennis grimly to the present Voldemort.

"Of course. How could I not? Minerva McGonagall was a Gryffindor, but the most wonderful person I have ever met. We wanted to marry each other", Voldemort said absently as he stared wistfully at the pair.

"How come she left you?" Dennis said as the scene changed once again to show the grounds of Hogwarts by the Black Lake underneath a tree.

"Oh, please no! You tortured me enough with that small memory at that Christmas Party with her!" pleaded Voldemort as they saw the couple once again.

This time there were no smiles on their faces as they stood under the tree. They were another year older in this memory. Minerva had tears in her eyes while Tom showed no emotion at all.

"Tom-", she started, but Tom interrupted her.

"Tom is no longer my name, Minerva. I have told you it's Voldemort now with-"

"That's the point!" she remarked losing her temper, but regaining it back before continuing, "I don't want to join those Knights of… Knights of-Whatever you call yourselves!

"Tom, why have you changed? You talk nothing, but insulting Muggleborns now. I love you and why can't we get married after we graduate? I can't wait any longer"

"Because I have important things to take care of for the Knights" said Tom emotionlessly.

"I can't live like this anymore! I don't love you, Voldemort. I loved Tom. Why bother when he no longer exists. Be happy in the life you have chosen", she said taking of his engagement ring, throwing it at him, and running off.

"I should have expected that from a Gryffindor", said the younger Voldemort carelessly leaving the ring in the snow while walking off.

"That's it! Why are you bothering me with petty moments from my past?" yelled Voldemort at Dennis obviously trying to hide his emotions.

"Because these are mistakes you have chosen. You had no friends. You had love, but you threw it away. I bother showing you for I am your mistakes", said Dennis calming to Voldemort.

"THEN LEAVE ME!" he hollered to Dennis.

And that he did.

For Voldemort found himself in the parlor once again where he had stood before the memories. Glancing at the clock which now said 1:58.

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**Author's Note: **Yes! Finally getting a little longer here. Sorry for the wait guys. I'm just putting up all the chapters now as a late Christmas present. It took awhile because when I had first written this story, I couldn't remembe those two kids' names (Dennis and Amy) and I had made some up. I was too lazy to search it up in the book, but my dear friend **MoonGazer7** searched it up for me and many thanks to her! Merry Belated Christmas! 


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Present

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. 

**Claimer:** I do own this fanfiction however.

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Chapter 3

The Ghost of Christmas Present

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A minute had passed and Voldemort still hadn't moved. He could hardly believe what he had witnessed. It was the oddest thing he had ever been through and he certainly hoped never again.

The Grandfather Clock rang 2:00 and now a new man step into the parlor. Voldemort almost roared at the trespasser for entering into his hideaway, but quickly stopped when he saw who it was.

He was a large man, half-giant, that was almost as tall as the parlor room and his head brushed against the ceiling, but he didn't seem to notice it. He wore a long green dress robe that reached down to his feet (It seemed impossible that a robe could comfortably fit someone of that size. He had a large wild beard and his eyes with warmth glistened like beetles.

"H-Hagrid!" Voldemort stuttered at his old classmate remembering that he was the one who got Hagrid expelled in his 6th year.

"Who is this 'ere Hagrid?" said the giant to Voldemort, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present"

"But you're Hagrid!" said Voldemort to the presumed spirit.

"Is that who yeh see me as?"

"Yes"

"Is that who yeh 'ear me as?"

"Of course!"

"I am not 'is Hagrid and we have never met before Riddle, but yeh must have caused 'is Hagrid great trouble for yeh ter see me as him. As I told yeh before, 'I am the Ghost of Christmas Present'", said the Ghost calmly to Voldemort who stared with wide eyes at Hagrid-I mean the Ghost of Christmas Present.

"So what have you to show me?" asked Voldemort bitterly once absorbing the fact that the half giant somehow got in the house.

"Yeh see what yeh'll see and no 'ore", said the giant gruffly, "First stop, Lestranges"

"For Merlin's sake, why?" asked Voldemort.

"Ter see what yeh have missed when yeh've could have been feasting with yeh followers and doing what you're suppose ter do at Christmastide", said Christmas Present while the surroundings around them slowly dissolved into the Lestrange House.

The Lestrange House may be close to ruin, but every member of the party seemed to have a gay time. Every Death Eater and family members of them greeted each other and laughed together.

Voldemort had to admit he wished he was in the crowd. They were having a great time.

Then, Anvholo Lestrange stood up on a rickety chair and cleared his throat. Everyone turned their attention to him.

"Now that we have all gathered and chatted, I would like to make a toast!" he said and everyone automatically raised their glasses, "To our Dark Lord, even if he couldn't make it here tonight, for if it wasn't for him we wouldn't be here celebrating when he decided to let us of the night off-"Someone coughed as indicating that they doubted that and everyone laughed, "May he live long and have good health. To the Dark Lord!"

Everyone drank to this. Voldemort couldn't believe that they were toasting to him!

"Now that _that_ is out of the way. Let's start this party!" he said right before the chair collapsed and he fell on the pieces.

Everyone gasped and there was an awkward silence before Anvholo fell into a fit of laughter which everyone followed. Bellatrix helped him up and they continued.

"I should have known better than to stand on an ancient chair. I have to admit my parents will not be pleased because it was an heirloom. You know that even though it is repaired it is never the same", Anvholo was ranting to one guest and Bellatrix "repairo" the chair as Christmas Present grabbed Voldemort's hand.

The party and laughter began to fade away to yet another place. Voldemort longed to stay.

"Why are we going?" he asked to Christmas Present.

"I have 'ore to show yeh", he replied.

"Where are we going now?" Voldemort asked.

"Ter the Weasleys", the half giant replied gruffly.

"The Blood Traitors?" Christmas Present gave him a piercing stare before talking.

"They are having a Christmas party at the Burrow with that group that's against yeh and yeh followers, The Order of the Phoenix", he explained, "I think yeh ought ter see"

Now Voldemort found himself in another party with all his enemies.

He saw everyone of the Order. "Mad-Eye" Moody with his revolting eye was talking to Remus Lupin who was holding his hand with-Voldemort guessed for she had bright pink spiky hair and hear very much of her from the reports from his Death Eaters- Nymnadora Tonks. He saw the real Rubeus Hagrid chatting with (A shred of guilt and jealously grabbed hold of him for a moment) his old sweetheart, Minerva McGonagall.

Along with lots of other Order Members, there were the red haired Weasleys. Molly Weasley was chatting with her husband Arthur Weasley while Molly watched uneasily at the magical clock that told where each member of the Weasley family was (Currently almost every arm with a name was in between "Mortal Danger" and "Home" while one arm was in between "Mortal Danger" and "Work". That arm soon changed to "Traveling" completely.). Charlie Weasley (the oldest Weasley son) joined Hagrid and Minerva. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were laughing at Dedalus Diggle with Mundungus Flether because they had just gave him a Canary Cream; Diggle realizing what happened chuckled along with them while turning back into his normal self. Ginny Weasley was holding a tray of drinks and passing them out. But the other two he couldn't find.

Finally he found Bill Weasley with his new beautiful French wife, Fleur Weasley. While his wife was pretty, he had not a shred of handsomeness. Voldemort remembered his old face during previous battles before last June. He remembered being pleased at a report which Fenrir Greyback, a known dangerous werewolf, had deformed his face, but how badly Voldemort never knew. He winced was he look over Bill's new features.

"I see yeh have noticed Bill Weasley", said Christmas Present.

"Yes I have. How horrible it must be having to live like that", said Voldemort, but he caught himself before releasing the pity that bugged him from the bottom of his almost non-existent heart.

The front door behind him opened and Voldemort turned to see his most hated enemy.

Harry Potter was still the same. He had jet black hair and emerald eyes. In the middle of his forehead was his lightening bolt scar. He was now 17 and supported a black eye. Behind him were his most faithful friends.

Hermione Granger, mudblood, still had her trademark messy brown hair and brown eyes. She too had aged 17 and now had sort of crooked arm as if she broken it and there were black and blue bruises.

Voldemort had seen the last Weasley who was Ron Weasley with Granger and Potter. He had fiery red hair with blue eyes and numerous freckles. He didn't seem to have any serious injury at the first look, but you can see he seemed to have broken his nose. The whole party was delighted that the Golden Trio were finally there.

Then Minerva McGonagall had called attention just like Anvholo had did at the party, but she stood near the fireplace instead of trusting a chair (Which was just as impressing with her height). Everyone joyfully turned their attention to her.

"Well, Christmas time is the time to be thankful for events that have happened no matter how small or despairing they are. First off, let's toast to the Order of the Phoenix for keeping You-Know-Who at bay-" To Voldemort's displeasure, they toasted to this, "May it live and flourish.

"Second to Albus Dumbledore. Even as he rests peacefully in death he continues to inspire and guide us. May his name always command great respect.

"Third to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley", the three blushed deeply which gained a few chuckles, "They will not inform me or anyone else what they have been doing, but they assure me that it's going along nicely. Good luck to their mission and I certainly hope those injuries heal.

"I believe that includes our toasts-" she said before someone interrupted.

Everyone turned their attention to Bill Weasley who continued speaking, "Excuse me Professor, but I believe we need to at least need to toast someone for a nice thing they have done tonight. Even if he is our enemy, I believe You-Know-Who deserves one for he has given us this night to celebrate with ourselves", he said grandly. Everyone seemed shocked to hear this, but murmured agreements.

"Fourth to You-Know-Who, but rather reluctantly. We thank him for giving this free night to us to spend this night together as we celebrate our friendship and remind ourselves why we are fighting and who we are fighting for; for those who love", she ended while everyone toasted to this also before the party went into full swing.

They had actually toasted to him! The hated Lord Voldemort! He paid his attention to Bill Weasley who was chatting with a crowd along with his wife. He didn't know why Bill bothered because after all wasn't it Voldemort who had given Fenrir permission to rip the skin of anyone he pleased?

"I know what yeh're thinking", said Christmas Present to Voldemort, "Bill has always had a heart of gold. 'E was always kind to everyone and very playful. Even as 'e is now ugly and you would think 'e should be bitter, 'e is thankful for everything 'e has. Even the timeline of 'is life" Voldemort was confused by the ending sentence.

"What do you mean?"

"Yeh see 'is face? It is the worst thing ever. 'E can't survive it. The Healers have predicted 'is death in about a year or so. Luckily, there is been a treatment recently founded that works most of the time", explained Hagrid.

"So why is he deciding just to die?"

"'E has no choice. They have no money to pay for the surgery", concluded the ghost.

The scene started to fade away as Fred ate a Puking Pastille to show Mundungus their masterpiece of their pranks for the twins' prank store (Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes) which Molly scolded them for choosing to do it during the party.

Voldemort was now shrouded by mist and could only see the Ghost of Christmas Present now standing in front of him.

"I'll like yeh ter meet some people Riddle. Yeh been pretty close to this lot for the early years of yeh life, but never have yeh actually met them. The People who yeh tortured met them everyday now", said Christmas Present.

"Not more spirits!"

"Nope. They're emotions, Riddle", said Christmas Present like Hagrid waiting to show someone a new creature. Voldemort was confused by that.

"What?"

Three figures stepped into his range of sight. All three were short beggar boy triplets. One boy seemed scared by everything, one had a frightening look in his eyes, and the last seemed like he lost everything in the world.

"I would like yeh ter meet Fear, Terror, 'n Despair, Riddle", said Christmas Present, "Nobody should ever have to met this lot like the way yeh 'flict upon innocent people.

"Now off we go yeh lot" Christmas Present, Fear, Terror, and Despair walked in the mist leaving Voldemort behind.

Now Voldemort found himself in the middle of his parlor as the clock announced 2:59.

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	5. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. 

**Claimer:** I do own this fanfiction however.

* * *

Chapter 4

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come

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Voldemort ran to the kitchen as quickly as he could. The kitchen was small, but had the essentials. It wasn't used to for the longest time so dust was littered on the surface of everything. He pointed his wand at a plastic muggle cup that was already there at the counter. 

"Aquamenti!"

The cup filled to the brim with water.

"Win_gar_dium Leviosa!"

The cup was floating in the air. Voldemort used to his wand to direct it. It directed to over the muggle sink. He put his head over the sink, but under the cup of water.

He used a sharp movement with his wand and the cup turned over. The water splashed on him and poured into the dusty sink.

"No more stupid ghosts. No more stupid spirits. No more emotions. No more illusions. But most of all no more bloody _memories_!" he muttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes and did a simple drying spell on his head with his wand. The Grandfather clock stroked three 'o clock. Voldemort jumped and turned.

There before him was a Dementor. Or at least he thought so on the first look. Dementors floated, but this on had his _feet_ firmly on the ground. The figure was draped in a black cloak with a long hood that hid his whole face. He was skinny and silent. Voldemort wasn't even sure if it could breath.

"Let me guess. Ghost of Christmas Future?" asked Voldemort annoyed; crossing his arms.

The figure lifted its hand and pointed to a medium-sized mirror hung on the wall. It was a beautiful gold mirror, but its beauty hidden under a coat of dust. Voldemort saw no point to it.

Then he saw it. It was as if a small child had discovered the mirror and was now putting childish messages upon it in the dust:

_Close. I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come._

"Same thing isn't it?" he asked impatiently.

The figure was silent and did nothing for a while. Voldemort was sure that if he could see his face he would be receiving a pointed glare.

Then the figure pointed again to the mirror. New words appeared:

_I am here to show you the future and certain events you may find hard to believe…_

Voldemort scoffed. This really was getting to his last nerve. Why didn't the darn ghost say anything?

The room started to glow and faded away to a shopping place. Voldemort saw it was Hogsmeade, the wizarding village. Hogsmeade would usually be depressing at times like this, but it too was as cheery and Christmassy as it could possibly get.

Christmas Yet to Come pointed at the entrance to the popular pub, The Three Broomsticks. Out came three Voldemort too had seen during the part of Christmas Present.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley walked out the pub. They too look a year or two older. They stilled looked the same, but the injuries had healed and were gone.

"So Harry, are you going to talk to us about how it feels to be a murderer at 18?" asked Weasley to Potter cheerfully.

"_Ronald!_" said Granger disapprovingly.

"Sorry, I don't kill and tell", said Potter which Weasley laughed while Granger gave him a death glare which reminded Voldemort so much of Minerva McGonagall.

"That's _not_ funny!" scolded Granger.

"Now seriously Harry, how was it-" said Weasley ignoring Granger, but being interrupted by Voldemort yelling.

"STOP!" hollered Voldemort and the scene around him froze like someone had just pressed paused on a muggle remote.

"I wish to see no more of this foolishness", said Voldemort to the spirit ignoring his annoying gut telling him otherwise, "I want to know if Bill Weasley survived"

Voldemort had not known himself why he had asked the question, but was immediately answered by the spirit.

They were transported to a misty graveyard. Voldemort knew this graveyard by the looks of it that this was a new one not that far from Hogsmeade because of the gate surrounding the graveyard, the lack of plants, and the sign that was on the gate saying: New Hogsmeade Graveyard.

He had read that the purpose for this graveyard was for anyone who died because of the Second War and it had millions of tombstones, but he didn't need to look far because the tombstone that acknowledged his, odd, fear stood before him:

_Here lies Bilius Weasley_

_He was the kindest of us all_-

He couldn't bear to read anymore. Why did this happen?

"He-he never deserved t-that", stuttered Voldemort with tears sparking in his eyes. He had no idea why he said that or why he even felt this way. It was as if someone was imperiousing Voldemort and forced him to say it.

Apparently, Christmas Yet to Come had more important matters on his mind. He grabbed Voldemort to drag him along. Voldemort snapped out of his unwanted reverie and followed.

He was lead to the center of the graveyard with a small grave in the middle of the entire graveyard. Voldemort couldn't bring himself to read it.

"No, no. I don't wish to read it", demanded Voldemort, but the spirit simply, with a wave of his hand, forced Voldemort to bend down in front of the tombstone.

The epitaph was blunt as an axe and only said three words:

_You-Know-Who  
_

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	6. His Second Chance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is inspired by Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. 

**Claimer:** I do own this fanfiction however.

* * *

Chapter 5

His Second Chance

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His whole world came crashing upon him. He died! He died! Everyone was happy! Bill was dead! His servants turned on him! But that wasn't the worst, he was dead and on top of it was the pitiful epitaph.

"No! This can't be!" he cried out in anguish and almost tears.

"Can't it Tom?" asked a grim voice behind him.

Voldemort turned to the spirit. That voice sounded too familiar to be true and he didn't want it to be. His luck was not in his favor.

Christmas Yet to Come grabbed his hood and threw it back. There was the one Voldemort ever truly feared! Albus Dumbledore!

"Dumbledore! Tell me this is just like with the Ghost of Christmas Present. That because I did a great sin to him I see you as him", said Voldemort with plead.

"No Tom. I am indeed Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Are you sorry for what you've done?" asked Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry you have a big name", muttered Voldemort sarcastically.

He meant this to be an insult, but the old coot's face broke into a wide smile. Voldemort hated it when he was so polite.

"You haven't changed at all since I died, but of course it was just last June. You're still stubborn", said Dumbledore, now his mood changed to seriousness, "Are you sorry for what you have done?"

"What do you think?" he hissed bitterly.

"Honestly Tom! Have you not seen what you have done", said Dumbledore seldomly.

When he received no answer, he waved his hands. Voldemort didn't want to see any stupid Christmases, but Dumbledore had power to show more than Christmas Days.

His first murder…

Tom Riddle Sr. and his family lay dead all with terror in their eyes…

Minerva was crying in her dorm…

His Uncle Morfin sent to jail for a crime he didn't commit.

A muggle man he never knew, but killed years later was being harassed for a crime he didn't commit by the villagers…

Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson suffering from the Cruciatus Curse…

Potter being abused by the Dursleys…

Quirrel's only remains were that of dust…

Mytle's remains being carried away by Healers…

Cedric Diggory laid dead in the Little Hangleton's graveyard…

Sirius Black falling into the Veil of Death at the Department of Mysteries…

Potter being possessed…

James and Lily Potter dead…

Albus Dumbledore dead…

Bill Weasley's gruesome face…

These visions rushed by in Voldemort's mind fast. He couldn't stand it!

"STOP!"

The memories stopped at a halt and Voldemort found himself kneeling down upon the graveyard's floor in front of Dumbledore.

"I'M SORRY FOR ALL I'VE DONE! TELL ME I CAN REDO LIFE AND FIX MY MISTAKES!" shouted Voldemort.

"I am sorry Tom", said Dumbledore placing his hand on his shoulder, "No body can change Time, but you can start a new leaf. Forget about Voldemort and become Tom Riddle. Be peaceful and stop the Death Eaters. Make friends and enjoy Christmas. I can get you a head start"

Voldemort looked up at Dumbledore who had that annoying twinkle in his eyes. The mist engulfed them and Voldemort lost consciousness.

He found himself on the scarlet couch in the Parlor of the old Riddle House. Voldemort wondered if it was all a dream, but he wanted to turn his life around anyway!

He got up and went into the kitchen, but got distracted by the beautiful mirror which was mysteriously wiped of all dust.

Voldemort was no longer Voldemort, but once again the handsome Tom Riddle. It was definitely not a dream!

His face broke into a smile and he searched his robe pocket. He pulled out some lemon drops.

_Yep, it was Dumbledore._

He popped one in his mouth and rushed out of the side room of the kitchen. He ran to the front lawn where a young boy had gathered rocks and was in the process of throwing them into the windows.

"Hey you! Boy!" yelped Tom as he ran to the boy.

The boy didn't know that anyone lived or was in the house. He quickly dropped his rocks and put on an innocent expression.

"Tell me, what day it is?" he said while panting. The boy was surprised at this question, but answered.

"Christmas Day", he answered. He had started to notice the odd man's wizard robes.

"Great! The spirits did it all in one night!" cheered Tom. He ran down the driveway. The boy looked around to see if anyone else was there.

He didn't see anyone and he turned back to the man to watch him, but he was already gone.

Tom apparated to St. Ottery Catchpole. He knew the Weasleys' house was somewhere around here, named the Burrow or something. He saw a blonde dreamy girl on a verandah of a house nearby. He recognized her as a Lovegood.

"You there! Where can I find the Weasleys?" he asked the girl. She was awakened from her dreamy trance, pointed the way, and fell into her trance again.

He said "Happy Christmas" to her and then walked upon a beaten road for a while into the outskirts of town and then saw a large house that looked originally to be a pig pen, but now a home with many extra floors and extra chimneys sticking out here and there. The house only seemed to be together because of magic.

He trudged up to the door. He could still hear the remains of a party happening at the dark hour. He knocked at the door.

It opened a few seconds later to show Molly Weasley looking at him strangely.

"What is it Molly?" asked a voice from behind. Revealed beside Molly was Minerva. One look at Tom and she recognized him. The silver platter of Christmas cookies she was holding fell with a clatter to the floor as she held her face.

"Merry Christmas!" said Tom who was only amused.

_And this is only the beginning_, he thought with a smile.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your support and sorry for such a short story. Perhaps next year, I shall have a special edition with longer parts. I certainly hope you will enjoy my other stories and that you had a good holiday. 


	7. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Harry Potter_ or any rights to it. That belongs solely to J. K. Rowling and her respective partners. I do not own the plot of _A Christmas Carol_ for which this was inspired by. Charles Dickens has written that. I am also probably not the first one who though of combining the two either.

**Claimer:** I only own this story. That's it. Though the epilogue isn't really inspired by anything.

**Author's Note:** So…I decided to give a little Christmas in July. I have been toying with an idea of an epilogue for this. Especially since my friend, **The Grey Detective7**, is thinking of writing a sequel. Sorry, if it seems disconnected to the story. I write a little differently now. Not as plainly.

Also, sorry for seeming sudden, but I actually got inspired after the latest review from **Sister to the Dark Lord.**

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

"Merry Christmas!" Tom grinned a large smile at passerbys who greeted him back, but a little weary at his enthusiasm. His companion, Minerva McGonagall, rolled her eyes to look at the sky above them.

"You definitely have changed," she commented. He stopped smiling and looked at her face. Behind her square glasses, Tom could sense her seriousness and nodded in agreement. McGonagall was astonishingly the only person at the whole party who believed him.

Well, maybe trying to hug Harry Potter was going a bit too far. He almost lost his eyebrows. Minerva led him out immediately before the Order members got over their shock and started blasting Unforgivables.

"I don't want that type of life anymore. I want to start over as a good wizard," he said and continued after a look from Minerva, "Honestly! I'm going to find friends, get a good and respective job, and who knows…maybe I'll find a real family. No more of this anti-muggleborn business. I want to really _live_."

"Do you sincerely believe that it is going to be easy? You sound like you're going grocery shopping," McGonagall questioned. Though Tom's bubble popped, he admitted he missed her wit.

"Well…I mean…I've only been good a couple of hours. I haven't really thought it all out yet," Riddle insisted. The Transfiguration Professor rolled her eyes.

"Well, you do need a dose of reality," she reasoned.

"It can't be that hard." After all, didn't Dumbledore give him a head start? It honestly was much better than arriving at the Burrow as Voldemort. He didn't want to think of what would have happened.

"You don't understand Tom. The Order knows that you're Tom Riddle again. They aren't going to let you off easy though I will try to persuade them. And people are going to recognize you. Maybe not as Voldemort, but certainly as Tom Riddle and you know that you didn't end up having the best reputation in the end. Not mention, how will you explain Tom Riddle's disappearance and then years later, he comes back. Still 18!" Minerva listed.

"I'll…I'll tell the truth. The truth will set me free."

"It won't be enough. You and I both know that you will have to prove yourself to the Wizarding World. The only thing we don't know is if they will ever believe."

"Well, at least I've made a step towards that already."

"What would that be?" McGonagall asked stopping and turning towards him, her eyebrow raised.

"I regained your friendship, haven't I?" he asked, the grin coming back. He watched her carefully. The corners of her mouth raised into a very rare smile. Though she had aged, she still was the same.

Yes, that you have," she replied and they started walking again, heading into town.

* * *

**Author's Note**: So…yeah. Just an extra moment I wanted to add. I also think it makes a nice bridge if my friend ever gets around to writing the sequel. I swear, I won't add anymore. I don't think I'll be doing any revising of the story and just leave it this way.


End file.
